


Who Wants To Live Forever?

by youknowmyname



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: 80's Music, Accidental Cuddling, Alternate Universe - 80's, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Background James | Lancelot/Percival (Kingsman), Ballroom Dancing, Bisexual Harry Hart, Bittersweet Ending, Blood and Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, Denial of Feelings, Drunken Shenanigans, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, Eventual Smut, Everyone Is Gay, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, HIV/AIDS Crisis, Harry Hart Being a Drama Queen, Heavy Angst, Homophobic Language, I Blame Tumblr, I Tried, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Inspired by Music, Internalized Homophobia, Kingsman Training, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Merlin Is So Done (Kingsman), Merlin Is Very Dead, Missions Gone Wrong, Multi, Original Character(s), Out of Character, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pet Names, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Kingsman: The Golden Circle, Prank Wars, Roxy Morton | Lancelot Lives, Sassy Merlin (Kingsman), Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Tags Contain Spoilers, The Author Regrets Everything, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Young Harry Hart, Young Merlin (Kingsman), lots of emotions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-09-28 20:16:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20431817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youknowmyname/pseuds/youknowmyname
Summary: Harry Hart, the oldest agent in Kingsman, is the new Arthur.  He’s been a spy for decades and knows loss all to well, but the last person he expected to lose was his best friend and lover, Merlin. To cope with his depression, Eggsy and Harry go out for Windmill Pub for drinks, something to keep Harry Hart occupied. When an old photo of Harry slips out of his wallet, it leaves a pestering Eggsy with thousands of questions.Eggsy follows a young Harry Hart through his younger time at Kingsman; his first missions, honeypots, prank wars, and relationship with Merlin.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the awesome voidandsaturn for being the beta, thank you for yeeting all over the doc with me ;)
> 
> Hey guys, it's Carrie! After hours of listening to Queen and Elton John, this idea suddenly popped in my lead "a sad harry hart remising of his younger days with merlin, who was totally his lover". I said fuck it, and just wrote it. 
> 
> Just as a heads up, Harry/Merlin are about 19/20 during the start of the story and will get older as the story goes. Major constructive criticism and comments are to die for! It starts in 1980/1981, and if I got anything wrong with the history please say something! Italics are flashbacks, and non italics are modern day. 
> 
> I also made a Spotify playlist for this fic as I wrote the story:  
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5KGEYyhMLOUNd9AHeAafAL?si=3eVRR9YgTN-vL5gWC0OJ3w
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! Any feedback is welcomed in the comments.
> 
> -Carrie

Ever since the whole “Poppy” scenario, Harry and Eggsy had started a tradition of heading to The Windmill Pub not to far from the Tailor Shop every Friday at six. Some of the meetings would go into midnight while some would just last for an hour or two. They would talk about their latest missions, Mr.Pickles, Tilde’s pregnancy, Jack Ryan-whatever came to Eggsy and Harry’s mind. 

It was Eggsy’s way of trying to reach Harry. Of course Harry was the same old gentleman that he was beforehand, but some of the puzzle pieces were still missing. Harry had a lot on his plate: crowned the new Arthur, loads of therapy sessions for his ongoing amnesia, and coping with the loss of his best friend.

But the last person Kingsman ever expected to lose was Hamish Fraser- _ Merlin _ . 

It tore Harry when losing Merlin, his best friend since they were in Kingsman Training. His therapist and other agents stated that whenever Hamish was mentioned, Harry would simply just breakdown, something out of character for Harry to do. 

Harry, over four decades over, knew that being a spy was a dangerous job. He knew that spies didn’t get to have families, get married, or retire at a beach house in Mykonos. Down the road he has lost many close friends and family in Kingsman-but that was the risks of being in an international spy agency. The older he got, the more he was able to cope with his losses.

Harry’s therapist had recommended that it would be best for Harry to get out after work for coworkers by heading out to the pub, dinner, anything for the man. So that began the tradition of drinks at the pub on Fridays. 

Eggsy hated to admit it-but he dreaded going to these. It was the same old gag as they would sit in silence with Harry barely being able to drink a dry magateria, his favorite. There was so much sadness in Harry’s life, and now it was truly affecting him. 

After Eggsy and Harry finished a few drinks up, Eggsy offered to pay but Harry keep insisting. If It would make Harry happy, then Eggsy didn’t want to stop him. As Harry finished up paying the check, a photo had slipped out of his wallet and fell under the table. Harry hadn’t even noticed as he was preoccupied, the perfect move for Eggsy.

The photo had fallen on the back, and was dated “1980-cheers from the commie”. 

A subtle smirk appeared on Eggsy’s face as Harry wasn’t open about this younger days as a Kingsman agent. In fact, he wasn’t open about anything in his life. It was one of the side effects of losing people that you loved, one after one over the years.

Who was this “commie”? Was it a love interest of Harry? A femme fatale?

Turning the photograph over it showed two young men in the Kingsman jumpsuits, holding two puppies as they smiled at the camera. One of them had an absurd amount of curly caramel hair with downturned eyes, a Cairn Terrier, and a cheeky smile; which was obviously Harry. 

The other one showed another man who was lanky and slim with with dark hair styled into a buzz cut and rimless glasses, holding a basset hound which wiggled in his arms. It took a second for Eggsy to process the man with glasses as he looked unfamiliar. But it hit him. 

It was fucking Merlin. 

Eggsy was just used to seeing Merlin without hair, and never smiling.

Harry turned around as he placed the spare change in his wallet only to be greeted by Eggsy as he held up the photo. 

Harry already knew where this was going. 

“Never knew you could smile, ‘Harry,” Eggsy smirked, wiggling the photo as a way to taunt Harry. 

Harry’s cheeks looked as they burned up a little as he snatched the photo back and placed in back into this wallet. He attempted to ignore Eggsy’s nagging, but Eggsy wouldn't stop until got what he wanted.

“Who is this commie? She yah former mate?”

“How did Merlin lose his hair?”

“Mr.Pickles looks overweight. Wanna tell me why?”

“Holy shite ‘arry! What happened to yer perm?”

“I thought you were born old….”

Finally, Harry sighed in response, “You’re not going to stop pestering me until you get your answers, now are you?” 

Eggsy shrugged, a devilish smile plastered on his face, “I mean..obviously. Besides, you barely talk about when you were my age. It might be entertaining’.”

Harry didn’t have much to lose. He would go home to Miss Pickles who was already fast asleep and read his way through his books or watch  _ Love Island _ . 

With not too many friends or a love life and a pestering Eggsy, Harry mumbled under his breath as he sat back in the stool. “Sit back down and I’ll buy you another drink.” 

Eggsy had the expression of a child on Christmas morning as he plopped down into the chair, his chin resting on his hands.

“It all started in the Fall of 1980 in a bunker room full of 12 contestants who applied to be the next Galahad, Merlin, and Guinvere. They were recruiting for two field agents and a new handler. In the crowd of those two contestants were me and Hamish.”

═════ °• ♔ •° ═════

_ September 1st, 1981. Aids had been identified. Lady Diana and Prince Charles were married two months ago. Mozart had an undiscovered symphony. Harry Hart, a 19 year old who is going to be 20 in 10 days, is one out of the twelve new Kingsman Recruits. _

_ Turns out the military was definitely not for Harry. Infact, Harry would describe it as a  _ _ bloody shitshow _ _ . If it was his choice, then he would’ve gone to Oxford after Eton to study Entomology. But his father said that  _ _ Lepidopterology was just as bad as being a faggot. Harry was an attractive and strong man, any woman would fall in love with him. With the pressure of George Hart and his Eton friends, Harry reluctantly joined the military.  _

_ 14 months after his training ended, Harry Hart was honorably discharged after his first overseas mission.  _

_ He was the only survivor of a bombing in Africa, which still haunts him to this day. Crushed under the rubble, Harry could hear the screams and pleads of help as they gave into their fatal injuries. It made him feel guilty to kill innocents and be the only survivor of a traumatizing event.  _

_ _

_ Like a failure in life, Harry resided at the Hart Estate in Oxford, watching Dynasty, taking care of his baby sister, and playing football with his younger brothers. Hell, was uni even worth it? He was a total disaster, slowly unraveling.  _

_ That was until he had gotten a letter in the mail from Kingsman Tailor Shop. Why the hell would a tailor shop sent him a letter? _

_ Instead of an ad about buying a fitted blazer or cardigan, it was about him being in line of candidates to become a spy with an Arthurian name. It sounded bizarre! It seemed to be right out of a Bond movie. Harry was hand selected after his military experience and being top of his class at Eton. It was an eight month training experience. It was like a university, but for spies. _

_ Harry told the Harts that he had gotten a job as a tailor’s appetiance in London and it was an eight month experience. His family tried to stop him as he packed a small bag and set out for this new adventure. All he had to do is arrive at the tailor shop and just wait? The letter wasn’t entirely clear.  _

_ The next thing Harry knew was that he was in a hyperloop to the headquarters and lead to a bunker of sorts with other candidates. All of them looked like Ralph Lauren poster boys with their designer belts and double collars. Harry attempted conversation with the other recruits, but they wanted to see how short the only female recruit’s skirt was. From that moment on, Harry knew it was going to be total hell.  _

_ The female recruit was a Russian named Vanya Ivanov. Vanya was a big girl, height wise. Not bad looking; short blonde hair, blueberry eyes, lean but muscular, and smelled like vanilla. Her accent was thick and deep, but easy to comprehend.  _

_ She seemed to be sweet, stating that she tried to socialize with the other men but they had made fun of her, nicknaming her commie. Vanya looked out of place, just like the man sitting next to her. Like Vanya, he certainly stuck out like a sore thumb.  _

_ “Harry Hart, and you are?” Harry smiled, holding out his hand. _

_ The man wore rimless gray glasses as their gazes met, both of their hands firmly grasping the other. “Me’ names Hamish, nice to meet ye ‘arry.” _

_ Harry’s eyebrows furrowed a little at the response, almost having no idea what the man with glasses had said, except his name. He instantly knew he was Scottish.  _

_ Harry felt bad for asking, as it was embarrassing. Most of the Scots he had met he could barely understand even if they were Edinburgh. He had mastered accents in his short time in the military. Harry instantly knew where the accent was from. Telling by the thickness of his accent and heavy use of slang, Hamish was from Inverness or somewhere around the Highlands, where it was good old Scotland.  _

_ “...Scottish?” Harry asked, biting his lip. “I apologize good fellow, it was...just a little hard to understand you.” _

_ “Yah’ could tell. Better that than mocking’ me’, ‘arry.” Hamish responded, not seeming offended.  _

_ From what Harry had learned, Hamish was from a small town about an hour from Iverness. His family owned a dairy farm, which also operated a bed and breakfast with a big family. He was the eldest child and only boy out of five sisters who ranged from 18 to four. Hamish also had a skill in engineering and medicine, and was in the position to be the next handler as Kingsman was planning to add in a new wave of modern technology. Hamish, being the nerd he was, had stated that he was planning out a shoe in which you could take calls in, and glasses that you could communicate from.  _

_ Hamish Fraser was one of the biggest and most loveable nerds that Harry Hart had met. And Harry had only known him for a solid hour. _

-

_ Harry Hart was one of the most annoying men that Hamish had ever met. But yet, Hamish was fascinated with Harry. Within the first week of knowing each other, Harry had acted like they had known each other for years. Hamish grew up with his sisters being his best friends and wasn’t used to having close friendships with boys his age.  _

_ The other recurits were megalomanics clones who didn’t have a dose of the real world until coming in the program. As the months grew up and the tests got hard they start to drop like flies. That meant more of them stopped calling Hamish a “pipe blower,” Vera “dyke commie”, and Harry Hart a “faggot”.  _

_ Harry knew that Hamish wasn’t updated on lots of pop culture. Hamish had his own interests inside of his own bubble. Whenever other tried to make fun of him since they festered off of insulting others, Hamish would ignore them. Harry loved the way that Hamish would roll his eyes at him and tell him that he was nothing but trouble. If It weren’t for Hamish, then Harry would have drowned on the first night.  _

_ Four recruits were now left. Harry, Hamish, Vera, and Peter. From having to skydive without a parachute and escape a herd of rabid dogs, it is an understatement to say that the training had gone by like a breeze. Most of the recruits had matured heavily through the process while learning the impotence of teamship and agility.  _

_ After lunch, Arthuer commenced two pairs were to separate rooms in the manor. Harry was paired with Hamish while Vera was paired with Peter. It made them cringe for Vera that she was stuck with Peter.  _

_ Peter, Peter, Peter.  _

_ Harry had known Peter as an upperclassman from Eton. He was accused of saying racial slurs, theft, cheating, assault, and so many more crimes but got away due to his parent’s an absurd amount of money. Just looking at him made everybody but Peter furious. _

_ For the past eight months he terrorized the following recruits. From pranking Merlin to flirting with Vera and almost assaulting her after she rejected his lewd advances, Harry and his fellows grew to despise him. As much as they hated Peter, he was smart and agile, perfect for a Kingsman. Only if he would shut up about himself.  _

_ Shockingly he was favored by Arthuer, a sleazy, stuck in time old man with a chip on his shoulder. But of course he was favored; he was the typical white man.  _

_ Hamish and Harry waited in the small study as the fireplace burned. The minutes started to drag on. The only thing that was entertaining to two men was the small collection of books. Hamish shouldn’t have said anything about the book on butterflies since Harry immediately snatched it up, gracefully analyzing the pages. Harry Hart was like a little boy trapped inside of a six foot three man child.  _

_ Both of them sat on the couch in awkward silence.  _

_ Then out of nowhere, Harry spit it out.  _

_ “Do you know what butterfly you’re somewhat similar to?” _

_ “What?” Merlin asked, looking over at Harry.  _

_ Harry scooted right next to Hamish, no regard for personal space. Both of their thighs were touching as all the red flags went off in both of their bodies. Hamish bit his lip as he fiddled with his lanky fingers.  _

_ Harry pointed to a photo of a large moth that looked like a butterfly and a bee mixed together. “A Dead Head’s Moth. They are quite rare. I always run into them in the greenery.”  _

_ Hamish’s eyes didn't catch it at first as he drifted off, Harry’s words becoming muffled. He didn’t understand Harry’s obsession for butterflies. Vera had stated that it was probably sentimental to him, an escape from reality. Instead of watching his fingers move from the rather large month, Hamish’s eyes just focused on Harry. _

_ Even if he was annoying, there was something...soothing about Harry Hart. Although one of the most exhausting people Hamish had ever met, he was always brought in by Harry’s charm and soft appearance. His absurd amount of hair, his cologne, and milky voice was...so attractive to Hamish. Hamish would always get flustered around Hary as none of his crushes had ever approached him.  _

_ “Hamish, ‘ello?” _

_ Hamish felt a soft touch on his shoulder as his green eyes meet with Harry’s caramel ones. His cheeks began to show a little color. “Ye, ‘arry?” _

__ “Look at his nape. The little white spot?” Harry explained, his finger finessing the picture. “It’s a skull, since it represents death.”   
  


_ Of course Harry fucking Hart had to come out with with another weird remark, as he typically would do. Hamish had the same expression on his face; furrowed brows and a face plastered with confusion. He ignored Harry this time and looked back at his book.  _

_ One thing Harry Hart hated more than anything was when people hated him. He didn’t mind if it was people he hated, but when it was people he liked, or loved, it was truly hard. _

_ Especially if he really liked that one person. More than a friend.  _

_ “But, that’s not the only thing that is represents, Hamish. It represents wisdom, faith, attraction, and determination. I wonder who that could possibly remind me of.” Harry spat, looking around the room as he looked right at Hamish, a smirk on his face. “Oh! That person is right here, sitting next to me.” _

_ The annoyed expression on Hamish’s face came off as he genuinely looked back at Harry without an annoyed look or subtle groan.  _

_ “You know, once I become a world renowned lepidopterologist and you become an engineer, I would name a butterfly species after you.” _

_ ‘Why?” _

_ “Because I’ll never find a butterfly more special than you.” _

_ Hamish chuckled at Harry’s response, a devilish smirk plastered on his face. Was this flirting? Harry knew the game and wanted to get what he wanted. There gazes meet once again as their thighs touched, faces not far apart. It seemed like Harry got closer and closer, closing the book. Was this really going to happen?  _

_ And then the fire place exploded into flames.  Beeping, slow at first, steadily getting faster. The room filled with smoke as the couch violently tipped over with Harry and Hamish. It took Harry a few seconds to process the situation as he laid on the ground and caught the familiar scent of cedarwood, which was Merlin’s go to perfume. _

_ Hamish was laying on top of Harry, his lean body protecting him from any debris. Jesus fucking christ, Harry Hart was a dasmal in distress. His eyes scanned the room as he noticed the large window wasn’t actually the outside, it was painted on. How could they have not noticed that? _

_ Oh right, Harry was about to kiss Hamish at the perfect moment until the fire decided to explode. Fucking hell! _

_ “It’s a trap rum” Merlin stated, covering his hand with his nose. The smoke was practically covering the whole entire room now. “If ye don’ get yer arse up, then both of us are gunna become fried fuckin’ chicken.” _

_ Merlin had pushed himself off of Harry so Harry could get up, looking around the smoke filled room. It was hard for both of them to see and breathe in their surroundings. The fire was burning the couch and rapidly ascending to the bookshelf. The pair didn’t have much time left.  _

_ It was nearly impossible to find any trap doors or hidden keys, especially with the vents not coming loose. The heat was finessing Harry’s back, signaling him to hurry up on getting him and Hamish out of there. _

_ Thank heavens for the book shelf! One of the status had almost hit Harry until he shifted to the side, accidentally pulling a book which was there escape out of the room.  _

_ “Hamish! I’ve found an exit!” Harry yelled, waiting for a response. _

_ Still nothing, that was quite odd.  _

_ “Hamish?” _

_ The eeriness in Harry’s voice grew. His eyes scanned the room, which was almost covered in flames.  _

_ Oh fuck, where was Hamish? _

_ Harry had swiftly walked around the room only for his foot to bump into something hard, but soft. Looking down, he cursed to himself.  _

_ It was Hamish, curled up in a ball in a fit of coughs. He was completely covered in dust and smoke. The heat had gotten the best of him.  _

_ Without hesitation Harry picked up his Scottish friend bridal style. Good, he seemed to be somewhat conscious but was struggling to breath. His body was insanely warm. Harry had noticed a small spot of blood stained the collar of his jumpsuit. Fuck! _

_ “Hamish, are you with me?”  _

_ He attempted to respond but kept coughing with blood occasionally spitting out of his mouth.  _

_ Harry sprinted to the bookshelf and ripped out the book, revealing a small path for both of them. Harry Hart, holding Hamish bridal style, sprinted out of the burning room for both of their lives.  _

_ The library had lead into the dining hall with Harry Hart and Hamish making a grand entrance by collapsing onto the ground. Both of them were in a coughing fit covered in dust head to toe. They both remember this place as Harry threw a whole plate of food into one trainees face and was almost kicked out of the manor.  _

_ Arthur sat at the head table with his typical nose high in the air. Peter and Vera stood in front of the two men, both covered in dust.  _

__ “Good, about time you stopped talking about nonsense and movd your skinng arses,” Arthur coldy snorted. “That explosion was a good wake up call for you.”   
  
“Arthur, what the fuck? You tried to kill us there. Hamish could have died.” Harry complained, on his knees. He was still out of breath. Hamish was fine, but he could’ve nearly died. 

_ Arthur didn’t show any emotion on his face at Harry, acting like it was normal to escape from a burning room. But he’s been Arthuer for the past decade and sees this every June. “I’m sorry, but did you expect being a spy was all tea and crumpets? If Henry had choked on his own blood, then he two-” _

_ “It’s Hamish.” Merlin interrupted, standing up as he looked dead into Arthur’s eyes. “Not Henry, not Harrsion, Not Hector- my name is Hamish. If I’m gonna be’ the next ‘handler, then ye best bee gettin’ me name right.” _

_ The whole room went silent. Nobody had ever stood up to Arthur. Maybe it was his old age or snotty personality, he had gotten everybody's names mixed up. Of course he had finally taken the time to learn them, except for Hamish. Hamish was a well-mannered young man with occasional sarcasm. But him standing up to Arthuer was something else.  _

_ Hamish looked back at Harry, who was smirking back at him. _

_ Arthuer was left speechless, but why would he take advice from a man that nobody could barely understand half the time?  _

_ “Anyways, the four of you managed to escape a locked room with some..interesting methods.” Arthur added, looking at the pair. “Harry and Merlin found a hidden lever while Peter and Vera had crawled through the ventilation.” _

_ Arthur’s cold eyes darted at Peter, who looked like he had seen a ghost. Whenever Arthuer looked at you with his eyes in a pissy mood, you knew it was over. _

_ “Except for you, Peter. It’s rather embarrassing when a woman has to carry fully grown man. A screaming child is more like it. The comminust has more balls than you.” _

_ Peter tried to plead, as pathetic as it was, “Wait, sir, I can ex-” _

_ “What do you have left to explain?” Arthuer sneered back, shutting Peter up. He was putting the fear of good in Peter. “I had hopes for you, Peter. You wounded up to be an utter disgrace. Pack your bags and get out of my sight before I make the Commusnit dog walk you once again. Do I make myself clear?” _

_ Peter was shaken by Arthur’s cold rant, his blue orbs shrink as he shook in place. Harry, Hamish, and Vanya could barely contain their laughter as a Peter who was on the verge of tears storms out of the room, completely speechless.  _

_ Once Peter had embarrassingly excited, Arthuer looked at the remaining three agents, who were containing their laughter like mischievous school children.  _

_ “What are you all laughing about? That wasn’t even your final test.” He snapped with all of their smiles went away, standing straight with their hands behind their back. _

_ Vanya furrowed her thin blonde eyebrows, tilting her head at Arthur as she sarcastically spit, “You are kidding, correct?” _

_ “I apologize, but do you want me to send you back to Russia? It appears that you are asking for that to happen, Miss Vanya.” _

_ “No, sir. I apologize.” Vera coos like a fragile housewife, which was usually as she was a no bullshit gal. _

_ Arthur had stated that there was one final test for all of them to accomplish in separate rooms. It was a validation sort of test, to see if they were truly set to become Kingsman. Wishing each other luck, the final three disputed. _

_ - _

_ “How could you tell?” _

_ Vanya took a large ship out her obnoxiously large wine glass before fully explaining the process to Harry. “Harry, for ze last time, a blank and ze real gun are different. If ‘chu used zer head, then you would have seen zat Arthuer made chu stand a foot away with a one pound gun.” _

_ The final test was the most consvertnail one, shooting a puppy. What had made the whole test bizarre is that Arthur had been so emotionless and encouraged the recruits to shoot the dog. Kingsman wasn’t as cruel; it was a fucking blank. They wondered what the test would teach them. _

_ Apparently, Harry Hart was the only one who didn’t get the message.  _

_ Hamish had almost started to cry at shooting his beloved Basset Hound, Chewy. He had grown up on a farm with animals and cherished them all, leaving his father to tranquilize the animals.  _

_ Vanya threatened to shoot Arthuer with the blank just to see if he would have a heart attack, but she had fired the blank and left with her Shiba Inu, Lady.  _

_ Harry hated to shoot his Cairn Terrier Mr.Pickles had he treated him like a newborn, but it was all over when his dog had yipped with glee. Then he knew that he had passed as the new Galahad.  _

_ Hamish set the bar with his hounddog, sleeping on his lap. He hadn’t touched his whiskey as he was still shaken by the event. He had named the new Handler-Merlin. But that didn’t change the fact that having to shoot something you love wasn’t traumatising.  _

_ “Hamish, you’ve barely touched your whiskey.” Harry responded, placing a hand on the back of Hamish’s nape. His thumb gently finesse a small area. “I know how much you love whiskey, you downed a whole bottle of it.” _

_ “And proceeded to barf all over Vanya, ‘arry.” Hamish huffed, still caressing Chewy. “Just killin’ an animal...it’s killin sumthin ye love. I dianne know-just gave me chills. Whole day has been a bloody fucking shitshow.” _

_ Harry smiled reassuringly, with Vanya joining in. “Well, look at us now. After months of looking, we made it. And so did our pups. We’re laughing in the faces of those who put us down. Ok?” _

_ Hamish smiled back at Harry, there gazes meeting. Harry stood up with a glass in his hand, cheeky smiling. “To Kingsman!”  _

_ Vera and Hamish copied after Harry, and clinked their drinks together. This was going to be one hell of a ride. But with Vera and Hamish by his side, he knew it was going to be a rollercoaster. _

_ After a long night of drunken karaoke, darts, and drinking the group decided to head to Vera’s flat. They had a week break until expected to return back to Kingsman for their first mission. Hamish wanted to go visit his family and so did Harry. It was already 3am and Hamish decided to just wait out until 6am in the station, the first train to Scotland.  _

_ Vera had rented out a flat in Chelsea and invited both of them to sleep the night. Both of them drunk and tired had obliged, sleeping on the couch together. Chewy and Mr.Pickles slept in the middle, building a barricade between the two. _

_ Hamish softly whisperred in the dead of the night,“ ‘arry, I know yer not asleep.”  _

_ “So?” _

_ “So I am. Dunno, still pumped up...today.”  _

_ “Today was...something different.”  _

_ A small silence grew from, until Hamish broke it. _

_ “Thank ye, by the way.”  _

_ Harry raised an eyebrow, confused. _

_ Hamish sighed, “For draggin’ me arse out of there. Yah didn’t have too.”  _

_ “But I did. Friends don’t leave eachother behind. Besides, you weigh nothing, you noodle.” _

_ Harry and Hamish chuckled softly with Hamish delivering a light punch to Harry’s shoulder. Both of there cheeks were burning up, chuckles seeming to grow nervous. _

_ “CAN CHU ZHUT ZE FUCK UP?” Vera screeched from the other room, Lady barking in unison. “ THESE WALLS ARE THIN-I NEED TO SLEEP.”  _

_ “Shit, someone is quite grumpy.”  _

_ They concealed their laughter better; like schoolgirls admiring a crush. Hamish had turned over on the side of the flat and feel sleepy. Harry couldn’t sleep, he didn’t know what it was. _

_Harry Hart firmly believes he has fallen in love with his best friend._

  
  


═════ °• ♔ •° ═════

  
  


Eggsy and Harry had gone through a total of eight drinks. And yet Harry Hart was still (somewhat) sober, while Eggsy was a drunken and shocked mess.

It was now 12am, with the bar beginning to empty out. That was shocking for a Friday. Harry Hart had just told his experience in Kingsman Training, with all the twists and turns. Merlin was a nerd and Star Wars fan, This “commie” was Vera Ivanov, one of the first international and female recruits to Kingsman, and that Harry Hart was one of the most exhausting Galahad’s to exist. 

“ ‘arry...I got some many fuckin’ questions…” Eggsy sighed, pushing his hair back. Young Harry Hart was a different person from the current Harry Hart. “Ye gotta tell me more!”

“Eggsy, it’s 12am…”

“And?”

Harry sighed, taking money out of his wallet and placing it on the counter. He was exhausted and dizzy, just wanting to go home and lay in bed. “How about we make a deal? Every Friday I will tell you a story from my past. I can answer your questions then.” He stuck out his hand, preparing for Eggsy to shake it.

Eggsy groaned and shook it, areging to Harry’s deal. They put on their coats and bid farewell. Eggsy knew that Tilde was going to sitting in the living room, livid and preparing a whole rant just for him. Harry was worried that Miss Pickles had chewed up another pair of shoes in anger of her father being gone for so long. 

Once Harry arrived home, he had done his daily night routine and crawled into bed with with Mr.Pickles. For the first time in a while, he had felt...happy. This past days were the best days of his life; full of adventure, action, and drama. 

Only if Hamish was still there. He would've enjoyed drinking on Friday nights.  But Merlin was long dead. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy has become interested in Harry’s adventures as a young agent in Kingsman. Harry tells in one of his first and almost last mission as a Kingsman agent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the awesome voidandsaturn for being the beta
> 
> Howdy!! For starters, I wanna apologize for posting this so late. I just moved into my dorm last week, and it’s been insanely hectic with classes, field hockey, girl drama, all of jazz. Found some fellow Kingsman Friends >:))))
> 
> Hopefully i’m gonna get a chappie out w week if possible. Maybe every other week. It depends on my schedule. Hope you enjoy!! 
> 
> -Carrie

After work had ended for the day, Eggsy immediately rushed to The Windmill Pub and waited for Harry to arrive. Just as the sun had gone down, Harry arrived and they ordered drinks. This time, Harry had ordered a dry margarita and finished it in less than five minutes.

“How is Tilde doing?” Harry quipped, finishing up his drink. Although Harry’s typical stoic expression remained, a hint of exicteness was in his voice. 

Eggsy played with his drink, spinning the small ice cubes inside of the glass. Tildle was now seven months pregnant and much moodier than ever. Fights were now the daily norm for the both of them. It could have been the weight of carrying there soon to be child or that Tilde was always gone, night and day. Eggsy was busy with work but Tilde was a fucking princess who didn’t need to worry about saving the world, hasitly leaving to hang out with her ladies in waiting, night and day. Eggsy was always told to trust his gut feeling, raising tension in the home. 

“She’s good. Can’t believe tha’ i’m gunna be a daddy in a month…” Eggsy replied back, blatantly lying about the situation. He was somewhat bothered though, distracted from the conversation with his head in the clouds. But most people who desire that as being Eggsy most of the time. 

Harry had noticed Eggsy’s downness, and pited on him yet he never experniced the ups and downs of parenthood. 

But he knew fights all too well.

To cheer Eggsy up, Harry ordered them two vodka tonics which would hopefully numb the pain. He hates to see his Eggsy so upset.

Harry said, “I’m supposing you want to hear another story of my younger days? It was too late to continue on. But, I do remember my first mission well. It was unforgettable.”

Eggsy perked up as he drank his vodka tonic, his eyebrow quirking. He was fascinated with Harry’s little stories; like a toddler with a new toy. “Do tell. Never knew that you were annoying.”

“I actually like to employ it as peppy.”

“Technically, that means annoying.”

“Do you want to hear the story or not?”

Eggsy smirked, “Lead the way, ‘arry”

═════ °• ♔ •° ═════

It is an understatement to say that Mr and Misses Hart were not thrilled that Harry set off the security alarm early in the morning. Harry Hart had abruptly left for eight months and now had returned. Of course, his family harassed him with endless questions about his new job. 

It was a simple explanation; Harry Hart had been a tailor’s apprentice for the past eight months. He had grown out of his depression and was now pushing as a Tailor, happily living in a flat with a roommate, Hamish. Of course his parents were proud that he was living on his own. It was a quick weekend visit before he would return to London, doing the typical Tailor bullshit. As much as he despised Mr and Misses Hart, Harry hated to tell a white lie to them. The only true thing as the roommate situation. Hamish didn’t have the money to buy a flat, so Harry offered him to move into his flat in Chelsea. The only downside is that they shared the same room, different sides like boarding school.

The weekend had gone by fast and Harry was on a train back to London. He watched the rain splat against the window, the noises being aesthetically pleasing. It was getting quite boring in the country for him along with his parent’s questions. Misses Hart bothered him about bringing home a proper girl for the holidays.

“Darling, why haven’t you come home with a girl yet.” Miss Hart said with glee in her voice, “I bet they are fighting for your attention.”

Harry would’ve casually responded as if he was writing in his diary, “Oh yes, mother, all the women were swooning over me. No matter how many women you put up against me I either find them annoying or refuse to be attracted to me. Dating as a spy would be simple. Did I also mention that insetad of being a tailor, that I am a fucking spy that almost did 24 hours eariler? The only female that I have been around for the past eight months is a Russian, who you would simply judge on her accent and reasons for coming to the United Kingdom. She has also made it quite clear that she has little to no interest in romance. What, do you want me to throw my life away and get married at the virgin age of twenty? Not that I love women as they are fascinating creatures, but did I mention that I have had a keen interest for the past seven years of my life?”

But that was too tedious to do with his rigid mother. Instead, he responded, “Actually, not so much.”

“Impossible! Keep telling yourself that, and you’ll be a widow for the rest of your life!”

But what if we were to tell his mother that he was in love with a boy? Well, he had been in love with multiple boys since he was thirteen. Girls as well, but Harry Hart was a curious boy; curiosity killed the cat. Why not experiment? Harry thought it would get him the best of both worlds. But most looked down upon being attracted to the same sex, and Harry didn’t want to rock the boat. Being scared of criticism, he wanted to do nothing but please his parents as they tried to control his life. 

How would they react to Harry bringing home a boy, someone like Hamish? 

Who was he kidding, Hamish was too akwared to be in a relationsuip, even be bisexual like Harry Hart. 

But he wasn’t a scared little boy anymore. He was now a twenty year old man; a spy for an individual spy agency. 

It was a fresh start for Harry Hart, and he was willing to take it.

-

It was a common occurrence for Handlers to come on a mission with two field agents. It was better to have the backup there then nothing else. For there very first mission Galahad, Guinvere, and Merlin (Harry, Vanya, and Hamish) were assigned to protect Giovanni Falcone, one of the best judges in Italy. He was part of the antimafia; an association trying to take down the Infamous Sicilian Mafias. Giovanni Falcone was not well liked by the Mafias and had been receiving death threats apart as his breakfast. When his home was broken into, that was his final straw with the police providing him with military protection. 

The Second Mafia War didn’t have much coverage outside of Europe. It had been raging for the past four years with thousands of deaths being reported. Although there were many mafias in Sicily, the most infamous was The Corleonesi. In a crowd of betas and omegas, they were the alpha wolves. 

Luciano Leggio was the leader. Merlin had read out the report with it be truly appalling. The Corlenoesi Clan were extremely feared throughout Sicily by placing fear and bloodshed into anybody who dared mess with them, even innocnts. While in a standoff with the Inzerillo one of their sons was killed, triggering a bar fight and massive genocide. They couldn’t even get a proper body count due to the amount of bodies on top of eachother. That aided the Siclian police in catching Luciano Leggio, awaiting trial for multiple charges of terroism. It wasn’t going to entirely stop the Second Mafia War, but it would weaken it more. 

The agents job? Protect Giovanni Falcone at all costs. The hearing could have a potential moles, making it dangerous. The Silician police had no idea what Lucinao Leggio and Colrenoesi Clan were capable of planning. Harry and Vanya were going to be open and standing at Giovanni Falcone’s side, bulletproof vests and hidden poisoned blades. Merlin would be nestled in the crowd as a journalist. Just in case anything had gone to shit, Merlin was equipped with a concealed revolver. 

But when going to Sicily, why not explore the city during the night? On arrival to the historical Sicily, the Kingsman agents settled into their small hotel and headed to a nightclub by the bay. It was blasting the Psychedelic Furs and Joe Espostio. The club was full of tanned girls in short satin slips, boys with obxiosuly patterned chino shorts, and sugar daddies making out with whoever was young and pretty. 

Hamish was forcibly dragged out to this event by Harry Hart, his truly. The music was too loud for him to even think straight; drinking being his only comfort. It was one drink, then two, and now he had no idea how many glasses of Scotch he had impulsive chugged. 

Harry got up to dance, of course, swaying around the floor with all of the pretty girls and boys. A small chuckle would escape his thin lips along with his velvety voice saying something inaudible. Hamish hated to be a jealous person, but he at times envied Harry Hart except for his abused amount of annoyingness and questionable impulsive choices. He loved it when small curls would fall in front of Harry’s face fixing them by running a hand through his untamed mane. His white oxford shirt was fitted on his lean body; salmon nipples translucently showing. Especially with those cursed chino shorts on his thighs. Hamish could only imagine being Harry Hart; handsome. 

Yeah, Harry would definitely fall for someone like him. It was forbidden for boys to be together. Even if Harry was a girl, it would never work. Hamish didn’t want to even imagine if his parents found out, they’d have a cow. 

When Lady, Lady finally came on, instead of forcing Vanya to come up and slow dance with him he grabbed Hamish and had to drag him like a child out of there room for school. Merlin’s remarks such as “Put me the fuck down ‘arry before i slam ye face on ta the ground” or “don’t even try” was “cute” in Harry’s eyes. Of course, he was mentally freaking out. Both of them were. 

The next minute they were drunkenly singing (and screaming) Lady, Lady, together, hands wrapped around each other's shoulder. They didn’t care if there singing sucked or if they were being obnoxiously. Hamsih and Harry were twenty year olds who have a posisble chance of dying tomorrow on their first fucking mission. What the fuck was Kingsman even worth?

“Lady, lady, lady, lady  
I know it's in your heart to stay  
Lady, lady, lady, lady”

“Yer really fucking annoying, anybody ever told ye’ that?” Hamish snorted as he was dragged back to the booth, clearly intoxicated. Once Hamish started to drink, it wouldn’t stop. 

“Yes. Multiple times.” Harry responded, placing him back in the booth. He quickly looked behind him and then turned his head back to Vanya and Hamish. “Gonna take a quick smoke. Be back in a few.”

Vanya looked at a drunken Hamish, now laying in the booth singing along to the music that was now playing. With a subtle face of disgust, Vanya looked up and rose a thin brow. “I’m sorry, chu are kidding vight?”

And with that Harry did an irish goodbye into the bustling crowd of prayers. 

Vanya huffed under her breath, proceeding to drink her champagne without worry. Hamish eventually rose up for the chair, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. There was a silence between the two for a few minutes, until Hamish decided to shatter it. 

“So, do ye’ think Harry Hart is….” 

Vanya quirked her eyebrows at his response, “A what?”

“Um…” Hamish stuttered, rubbing his neck, “One of those….”

“A queer. You think he’s gay?” Vera conceded, trying to hide her sarcasm. “Vow. And chu hasn’t noticed that AT all? I’m zorry, has you seen ze way he vooks at chu?”

It was no secret that most of the agents in Kingsman thought of Harry Hart was being quite... flamboyant. Talking to the young man for more then ten minutes and almost anybody could figure out that he was gay, or bisexual in that nature. Rumors flew around that Harry Hart was known at Eton to have had a few affairs, even in secondary school. But then again, he was known to be a silver fox when it came to dating. 

It was forbidden and dangerous to be a gay, but danger was Harry’s Hart’s middle name. 

Merlin’s face srucnhed up in disgust, but morbidly curious at Vanya’s response. It felt so wrong to love Harry Hart, but so right at the same time. “Sorry, ‘cuse me?”

“Vhat? You asked me, I answer,” Vanya respondes. Hamish is trying to conceal the fact that his cheeks are beginning to show color. “Seems like you like him back.”

“What? Fuck no.” Hamish huffs, out of character. Hamish was usually a relaxed and polite man, rarely ever breaking under stress. “I dinnae wanna be classifed as...a faggot. It’s embarssin’”

“Who cares vhat others think? As long as your h-” Vanya was cut off by Hamish’s rant.

“I’m not in love with Harry. He’s a fucking faggot. I rather be fuckin’ dead then be caught in bed with ‘arry.” Hamish said, pissed. He stood up from the bar without saying a word, trying to look for an exit. Vanya just stared at him, with a face of disgust.

Why did she care about his sexuality? How did it even affect her life? Did she want to step into Hamishes shoes and process what it was like handling these new emotions? For fucks sake, he was Harry’s co-worker, friend, and flatmate. Even if he did like Harry, there was no chance it ever happening. 

All Hamish wanted to go back to the hotel, put in his face inside of a soft pillow, and screaming his head off. He could feel the heat burning up in his cheeks. The scotch was getting the better of him, making him much grumpier. Hamish was navigating the large club with music blasting in the background he was trying to find the exit. What appeared to be the exit door was not the exit door.

Infact, the last thing he wanted to see was a naked Harry Hart sucking an old geezers cock. 

Harry Hart was buttnakd on his kneees, redness appearing all over his body. Their clothes had been sprawled all over the floor. A hand was scrunched in Harry’s curly locks, moving his head back and forth. Harry’s hands were grasped onto the old man’s large thighs, his skin reminding Hamish of burnt grilled cheese. A small moan would escape from Harry’s mouth here and then. Of course the two had noticed the odd one out in the room and looked behind him. Harry turned around, cum dripping from his thin lips. Just as he was about to say something to Hamish, all he saw was disgusted (and horrified) face before thee door slammed shut.

-

What the fuck! What the fuck! WHAT THE FUCK!

Those were the three words that we’re racing around Hamish’s head. He had burst out of the club and straight back to the hotel, no matter how intoxicated or lost he was. After seeing Harry Hart in that state, Hamish was scarred for life. His gut was screaming so. He had taken a steaming shower and threw on a pair of plaid boxers, sitting on the shitty little queen him and Harry were to share. Instead of picking up his book to read, Hamish just sat there, the mental imagine haunting him whenever he shut his eyes. 

Hamish jumped when the door opened, revealing the one and only-Harry Hart. He had the same outfit as he did last time, but his skin was reeder and hair morre mussed up. Small pieces hung down in front of his face, but Harry didn’t seem to care about them at all.

To break the silence, Harry quipped, “Sorry you...had to see that.” Harry stepped to the side closet to take off his denim jacket.

Hamish didn’t want to respond and stare blankly at the pages of his book. He murmured under his breath, loud enough for Harry Hart to hear it. “Yeah, guessin’ those rumors ain’t wrong.”

Harry spun on his heel to look at Merlin, confused and offended. “And, how does it bother you? Hamish, you’re a great friend, but your acting like a cock right now.”

“Do you think I give a single fucks on what a little spoiled Eton boy is gon’ give me?” Hamish screamed, throwing his book to the side. “You shouldn't be even speaking about cocks. Do you wanna fucking embarrsas yourself in front of everybody? Maybe use your head, not your cock.”

Hamish’ breath smelled of Scotch, he was known to be a heavy drinker. It honestly depended on his mood, happy mad or sad. It was out of character for him to be so raw in his insults. “What does it matter to you? Am I making fun of you for having a non-existent love life? No. Maybe you should go back to little clut in the Highslands were you go back to an ignorant farm boy with no friends.”

Hamish slid off the bed to get directly into Harry’s face. Harry was somewhat sober and tried to back away as they waltz around the room, a screaming match occuring. Hamish was speaking gibberish with his thick accent with Harry being afraid that he could lose all control. Hamish had backed Harry up against the end of the bed. “You ain’t fuckin clever, Harry.”

“Jokes on you, I AM clever.” Harry snorted, a smirk plastered on his face. God, how much Hamish hated and loved that cheeky smirk. “I could easily beat you in this fight. Last time I checked, I have mus-”

Before Harry could even finish his comeback, Hamish charged at him until he slipped on his own footing. At that very moment Harry had collided with Hamish was they both fell back onto the bed, their lips embracing.m 

What a normal person would in Harry’s footsteps is push Hamish off and get the fuck out the room. 

But after all, Harry Hart’s middle name is dangerous. 

Instead of breaking off from the sloppy and accidentally kiss, Hamish and Harry didn’t break from it. It was noticeable although Hamish was drunk and had no control, he was touch starved and yearned for Harry Hart. His hands were tangled his curls as they slid down his neck and onto his hip bones, grasping on. 

Harry Hart knew what he was doing was very wrong. In fact, extremelty fucking wrong. But if Hamish was enjoy it, then so was he. Hamish was inexperienced and sloppy, but god did it feel god. It didn’t go much further than a sloppy makeout that proceeded with Harry and Hamish, cuddling inside of the queen bed.

Hamish’s taller body acted as the big spoon; his hand wrapped around Harry’s neck and arse. Both of there bony legs were entangled. Although he had fallen fast asleep, Hamish would place a fish on Harry’s forehead or inside of his locks, enjoying the sweet scent that lingered inside of it. He was jealous of that older man, and wanted Harry Hart all to himself. He was his for tonight. 

Harry was nestled deep inside of the cuddle, his neck resting inside of the small piece between Hamish’s chin and shoulder. He didn’t mind Hamish spoiling him with kisses and embraces. It was quite shocking that he had gone from a beast to a beauty in less than seconds. Even if it was accidental, Harry didn’t care one bit and rode with it until it died. 

Closing his eyes, Harry embraced with Hamish. This was a night in Italy was he was definitely going to remember for the rest of his life. 

-

Harry was awakened the next morning by a hand slapping him in the face, nearly pushing him off of the bed. He had awoken to Hamish and him embracing in bed; what a rude awakening! Hamish pushed his body up and rubbed his face, groaning.

“Why the fuck...werre we like that?” Hamish groggily asked, trying to find his glasses.

Both of them were wearing nothing but their boxers. Did Hamish just fucking forget about there screaming match last night and how it turned into a cuddlefest? It had hit Harry like a punch in the gut. Hamish was so drunk last night that he barely remember anything from last night. It was time to test out the theory.

“You fucking passed out on me, wanker” Harry repiled, getting out of bed to reveal that he was in white boxers. He was heading to the bathroom to wash his face. “I had to drag you’re 6 '5 arse the way up the stairs, and when i got here i was so tired i fell asleep on you. It’s a tiny bed, guessing it happened on accident.”

Hamish’s head was aching, and he laid in bed, hands covering his eyes. He sure as hell had no recollection of the previous night. He remembers leaving the bar extremely intoxicated, and that was that. Harry had disappeared for a few minutes, which seemed like hours, and had returned with Tea and pain relievers. A godsend, really. 

“Tanks, ‘Harry,” Hamish thanked as he drank the tea, preparing to use to another tylenol. He must’ve had a little too much to drink if he can’t recall last night. Both of them were putting on their bulletproof armor as they had to be at the court in an hour, meeting Vanya and Judge Falcone there. 

As they drive in an unmarked police cab, Harry couldn’t keep his eyes off of Hamish. They say in awkward silence. He was dressed with a casual journalist outfit while harry was dressed like an armed guard. Last night was still ahunting Harry, and Hamish didn’t seem to recall on a debit of it. No matter how many small signs Harry could imply, Hamish would have a quirked eyebrow. At first it had been scary to see Hamish so infuriated but once their lips collided, it was like fire melting ice away. 

Judge Falcone was to be protected at all costs, no matter what. The court had military stationed around Palmero Court, even sharpshooters on top of the roofs. The Mafia War was tearing apart Italy into pieces. 

The courtroom was small and muggy in the middle of September in Italy. Of course no air conditioning had been applied leaving Harry and the whole room to be a burning mess. Hamish had gotten hot, unbuttoning two top buttons which revealed a small amount of his pale chest. After a night such as that, Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of Hamish. The way he sat there, so vulnerable and attractive. 

Harry could feel a bulge come up in the crotch area. It was his first fucking mission and he was getting horny in the middle of his first mission. Vanya stood next to him, noticing Harry’s loving eyes towards a hot Merlin. 

Vanya shoulder bumped Harry a little, subtly smirking, “What is the dealio between you and Merlin, Galahad? You can’t take your eyes off of him.” 

“It’s nothing. It’s quite a small courtroom.” Hardy responds, trying to hide the fact that he has a large bulge in his pants. The armor was thick on his body and mainly hit it, it felt like a sauna.

Vanya scales him up and down, “Really? It is nowhere near b-“ 

The two couldn’t finish their argument as the room silenced for Luciano Leggio infamous entrance. He had a total of four guards; besides, front, and back of him. He proceeded to his sitting area as the small crowd murmured about him. Harry and Vanya stood beside the judge, protecting him from any incoming trick from Leggio.

The session had moved on for what it seemed like an eternity. Due to the heat and Luciano’s sickening emotionless replies to multiple counts of murder, it made the situation quite unfavorable. 

“Corte sospesa” Falcone spoke, rising up. “Tutti risero.” 

All raised in favor, looking at Falcone as he stared into Luciano’s cold eyes.

“Luciano Leggio, sei stato accusato di più account di omicidio, possesso e molti altri crimini. Ti ho mandato in vita in prigione, nessuna possibilità di libertà vigilata, nel braccio della morte.” 

That was when the room had turned into hellfire.

The three Kingsman agents barely spoke English, and blankly stared around the room for anything to save them for the dreadful heat. All Harry could translate was the last sentence; Luciano’s death sentence for his crimes against humanity. 

Without being able to process that thought, a member from the crowd had stood up and shot a fire at one of the lawyers, causing mass panic. Hamish! He was stuck in the crowd with one of Lucanio’s undercover men, held hostage. 

It turned into a standoff for a total of an hour. It was rambles in Italian about how the government would do better with Leggio’s rule, and other Italian rants. Police tried to attempt at corruption but failed, already having two bleeding officers. 

But the shooter had aimed at Falcone, yelling “Per Leggio!” as he shot his gun. Harry had dived into cover the shot, only to feel a sharp pain in his neck. Then he saw blood. He had been shot in the neck. 

His eyes connected with Falcone’s worries expression, blood splattered against his cheek. Harry’s vision blurred as he fell to the ground, everything was a blur to him. He could barely breathe or comprehend any thought. Was his death? 

“Hold him down!” A voice yelled-a thick brogue. It was Italian and identifiable-Hamish! “He could bleed out in five to eight minutes if we don’t do anything. Call services, and someone get me an aid kit, anything!” 

Hamish ripped the bulletproof chest off and unzipped the turtleneck, trying to see the wound. It had hit him in his collarbone, a clean shot but he was bleeding fast. 

“Will he be okay?” Vanya asked, holding Harry’s shoulders as someone ran to get an aid and gave it to Hamish. Hamish took a large cloth and applied pressure to prevent blood loss.

“The vest stopped a little bit of the impact, but they don't change that he is still bleeding uncontrollably.” Hamish sighed, holding it deep down. Services had arrived a few minutes later and took Harry without word. 

-

Hamish was worried. Actually, he was having a panic attack. He had been in the ER for five hours with Vanya, slouched on a couch as they awaited for news of Harry. They had no idea if Harry had survived or not. 

Until a woman had come out, and said that Harry was in stable condition. He was shot close to the collarbone and had missed a large area. He required a whole month of rest, but besides that he was going to be okay for the most part.

Vanya was slouched on Hamish’s shoulder, softly snoring as they waited in the empty room. It was only 11pm, but both of them were exhausted after losing one of there men. Once a nurse had alerted Hamish, he had gotten up and gently left Vanya to sleep as he rushed to the room. Of course, Harry Hart was fucking awake, reading a book with a bandage wrapped around his shirtless body covered in tiny scars.

Harry Hart took his eyes off of his book to look up at Hamish. He had a cheeky smile on his face even if he had a brush with death a few hours ago. “Hamish! Took you long en-”

Instead of Hamish being snarky and ignoring Harry’s remarks but adding in a serious tone, Hamish looked teary eyed. He responded with silence as he wrapped his arms around Harry Hart, letting out a small sob. 

“You’re so….fucking stupid ‘arrry…” He sniffled, the warm tears staining Harry’s nape. “Of course ye had to fuckin get shot in one of the worst places. I fuckin’ knew it. You just go out into the field a-”

Harry gently grabbed Hamish’s shoulder and pulled him up, his hands cupping his face. Tears were streaming down his face as he sniffled, his face entirely read. It pained him to see Hamish’s like this. He was actually worried for his well being. 

“Hey, Ham, it’s...all ok.” Harry cooed. Hamish’s arms wrapped around Harry’s hands. There faces felt so close, but so far. “I’m here, right? That’s all that matters right now…”

Hamish sniffed and nodded, trying to hide the fact that he was just sobbing his eyes out. They ended their embrace. Hamish’s cheeks were burning up with Harry mentally freaked out. Oh god, was he getting back his memories from the previous night?

“Besides, it was only my first mission. It’s the second time I got shot for fucks sake.” Harry smirked, shrugging his shoulders.

Hamish had a face of digsut on, sighing, “Fuck you, Harry Hart.”

-

“Hamish almost beat the shit outta you?” Eggsy replied, finishing up his drink. Both of them had drunken quite too much. Once again the clock at hit one am, smiliar to last week.

“He is 6’5, or was.” Harry chuckled, unusual for him as he downed his last drink. The bar head has told them it was closing in a few and they needed to pay. They paid and left out into the cole with there jackets and scarfs on. 

Before Harry could leave, Eggsy came up and asked a question, praying that Harry could come through, 

“By the way, can I...stay at your place? Just for the night ‘o.” Eggsy explained, his finger fiddling in the snow. “Me and tilde are having sum...shit and I dun wanna deal with it right now. If not, it-“

“No worries. Are you okay with one bed? It’s would be two people and a small puppy.” 

Eggsy blushed at the response but shrugged his shoulders and nodded. “Sounds good to me.” 

Harry and Eggsy took a cab home and arrived before the snowfall had gotten bad. Harry, being the best house guest he could be, offered Eggsy a spare set of pajamas and even had let him shower and brush his teeth. 

Although Eggsy has known Harry for many years, it felt like he was finally melting away the ice that Harry had around him. For the first time in forever, he could say that Harry Hart was not just an old person. He was an annoying twenty year old shithead how was still figuring out life.

Past Harry would have enjoyed Harry, or now the new Arthur. Even since coming out as one of the first openly gay members along with Roxy, it seems like a wall has been broken down between him and Eggsy.

But Harry and Merlin? He...would’ve never suspected it. It was a curse and a blessing to know. 

The two of them slouched into bed with Miss Pickles cuddled right next to him. Harry Hart fell asleep quite fast, his dreams full of his younger and happier times. But when he was young, he would think about...Hamish. 

He had done it for Kingsman as he promised that over forty years ago. Once you become a Kingmans Agent you are willing to put your life on the line for the greater good. Hamish was one of the only original members that had been left, leaving Harry as the oldest working agent alive. He remembers everyone that he knew so well; Lee, Vanya, Hamish, Percy, James...were all gone now. 

The very next morning, Eggsy had found out that the baby wasn’t his. In fact, it was another man and Tilde had been avoiding him for that reason. He was utterly devastated and furious at such a thing. He should’ve seen in coming.

Eggsy didn’t even dare go back there flat in Chelsea, he refused to see her face. Harry had comforted him through the progress. He knew the pain all too well.

It happened so quickly for both of them, it was still hard to progress. Eggsy was sobbing on the couch as Harry rubbed his back, trying to reassure him. And then out of nowhere, Eggsy had picked up and face and collided it with Harry’s, not letting go.

Eggsy didn’t not leave Harry’s house for the rest of the weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y’all loved it. Feedback and Kudos would be MUCH LOVED!! <3


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